Sugar Fangs
by Le Fez-Wearing Husky
Summary: In the mystical, post-apocalyptic land of Ooo, anything is possible. Supersonic caterpillars? Sure. Anthropomorphic fungi? No problem. And romance blossoming between a vampire and a sugar-coated ruler of the Candy Kingdom? Well, just maybe… [A collection of Bubbline/Gumlee oneshots.]
1. Silent Heart

**So yeah, here I am, having a go at writing a few Adventure Time one-shots.~ I hope you enjoy what I've written so far! I'll admit that I'm not all that experienced in writing one-shots and I tend to get a bit carried away when it comes to length (so far I haven't been able to write anything under 5,000 words), so constructive criticism is welcome. I'll update whenever I get a new idea, but I will also respond to requests - that includes requests for continuing existing stories, particular AUs, love triangles, et cetera. So long as the central pairing is either Bubbline or Gumlee.**

 **Ratings will vary. Warnings will be given in the summaries before each individual story.**

 **And that's about it! Enjoy the two stories I've currently written, and feedback, as always, is much welcome.~**

* * *

 **Silent Heart**

 **Universe:** A steampunk AU, set specifically within the city of Ooo. (Bubblegum is also human in this AU.)

 **Pairing:** Bubbline

 **Words:** 5,198

 **Rating:** T for slight angst and some graphic imagery.

 **Summary:** Professor Bonnibel Bubblegum of the University of Ooo, an accomplished scientist, was always far too focused on her work to take any notice of the strange rumours circulating the city. But when she hears that a rare and coveted ingredient can be found deep in the bowels of the city's sewers, potentially amongst an unidentified deadly creature, Bubblegum decides to investigate. But in doing so, she meets someone whom she is unlikely to ever forget.

* * *

A pungent, colourful cocktail of whirling and billowing gases streamed from the matrix of beakers and boiling tubes that weaved its way around the laboratory, the vapour obscuring much of the room under a sulphurous veil. Professor Bonnibel Bubblegum adjusted her brass-rimmed goggles on the bridge of her nose as she carefully measured out drops of a purplish compound into a vial of water, before stepping back and rapidly scrawling down her immediate observations. A mini-mushroom cloud of lilac gas spewed from the mouth of the vial, diffusing into the chemical cloud that permeated the area.

Bubblegum brushed off a layer of sweat forming beneath her magenta fringe, exhaling lightly as she did so. The scientist chewed thoughtfully on the end of her fountain pen as she pored over her experimental results.

"Hmm… Combining the powdered quezlcoatl fang with phoenix ash solution and pure calcium sulphide yielded very promising results… only…" She sighed, violet eyes panning the apparatus in front of her. Many of the reactions were still going at full pelt. "I've tried over one hundred different compounds, but none of the results have been exactly the same as before…"

A sudden knock on the oaken door of the laboratory interrupted Bubblegum's train of thought. "Professor Bubblegum?" called the familiar voice of her assistant through the wooden portal.

"Oh," Bubblegum murmured as she strode over to twist the door handle open, revealing the vaguely circular form of a large white peppermint that sported four limbs and a face. Crimson triangles ringed the edge of the technician's face, from which impassive dark eyes gazed patiently at her. The technician's body was swathed in a stained lab coat, permanently dyed by exposure to chemicals and other fluids in much the same fashion as the professor's own. The whitish garment barely allowed enough room for the anthropomorphic peppermint's stubby arms and legs to manoeuvre. "It's you. Peppermint Technician."

"Yes," Peppermint Technician answered, proffering a patterned china plate laden with an assortment of biscuits. "It's lunchtime, so I decided to bring you a snack. Have you come any closer to recreating your cure-all formula yet?"

The question caused the professor to emit a deep sigh. "Well… I fear it may be impossible. There is one promising candidate, but... It's too soon to say, really. I'm going to have to test it on a variety of different ailments before I can be positive."

"Of course," replied the technician, gesturing towards the plate he held. "Are you sure that you don't want to have a cup of tea and a biscuit, professor?"

"No, thank you. I'm much too busy to take a break now… Though I appreciate your concern." She smiled fondly down at her assistant – her _creation_ , the organism that she had brought to life with her own two hands, using only a box of peppermints, an electrical generator and the unique animation formula she had developed. Bubblegum recalled that event as her most successful experiment yet. After all, it had resulted in producing something – or rather, _someone_ – who was capable of far more than she had previously conceived. Especially considering almost all of Peppermint Technician's biomass was formed from solid peppermint.

Said technician inclined his head rather grandly. "You are very welcome, professor."

The pink-haired scientist almost chuckled at that point. She found it rather touching to see how effortlessly loyal her assistant was to her own self – willing to go above and beyond to make her life easier and more comfortable. Although he had a tendency to disappear seemingly into the ether at random intervals, he also somehow managed to rematerialise right at the moment when Bubblegum needed him most. She had no clue where he spent the brief intervals in which he appeared to vanish without a trace, but it intrigued her greatly. Peppermint Technician often returned from his mysterious destination with a rare material or specimen – once he had even brought back the venom of a legendary sand demon, which supposedly only dwelled within the fabled parallel realm of the Nightosphere.

Bubblegum turned around to face the steamy interior of her laboratory once again, half-expecting Peppermint Technician to have already departed, off on another of his "outings", in the few seconds it took her to glance back over her shoulder. But her fellow scientist still lingered; his ebony eyes, as inscrutable as dark shrouds, remained fastened to her own.

"Is there anything else?" the professor inquired.

"Nothing major," the technician reassured her. "Though it may prove useful." He cautiously entered the steamy chamber, relocating his own protective goggles over his eyes as he did so. "The original serum used manticore saliva extract as its active agent, right, Professor?"

"That's right," Bubblegum confirmed, leaning in eagerly. "Did you manage to find some more?"

"No, but…" The peppermint's features formed a tight grimace. "Surely you've heard the rumours… concerning the sewers beneath the city?"

"No, I haven't, actually," Bubblegum admitted. If the truth be told, the professor rarely left the university building, and so was blissfully unaware of any strange conspiracies or theories cooked up by the many superstitious citizens of Ooo. She was usually far too absorbed in her research to take any interest in any obscure rumour circulating the city. But if there was any possibility, any chance at all that she could get her hands on some manticore saliva…

"But what is it about these sewers, Peppermint Technician? Have you heard about any manticores living down there?"

"I have." This confirmation should have filled the professor with ecstasy and delight that she might finally have another chance to perfect her omnipotent medical formula, but any such exuberance was utterly destroyed the moment she locked eyes with her technician. His dark peppermint irises contained a foreboding tenebrosity. It was an expression of warning; of dread so profound that even the fearlessly logical mind of the scientist was defeated by fear. "But the other rumour that I heard didn't have anything to do with the manticores. Apparently, there's also something living down in those sewers that is far, far more dangerous than any manticore. Even I would never dare to enter those tunnels alone, just in case the rumour _is_ true…"

Part of Bubblegum's mind simply wanted to defenestrate this unproven statement, but another part urged caution. If even her technician, who had never shown fear at conducting the most dangerous of experiments, was showing apprehension, then clearly this was something she had to take seriously. "But what… what _is_ the rumour exactly?"

"It varies, if truth be told." Peppermint Technician's circular frame blurred momentarily as he paced through a wall of viridian mist. "You know how it is. Everyone who's seen it tells the story slightly differently. But I don't get the impression that they're just making it up." As he re-emerged, he pivoted on his heel and began pacing in the other direction. "The one thing that all these recounts have in common is that the victims of an unidentified serial killer have been found with two identical bite-marks on their necks, oozing blood, with dried and shrivelled-up bodies… like white prunes, as though something had sucked them completely of their colour." The technician abruptly stopped in his pacing, his back facing the professor. "Some have even claimed to have seen the killer first-hand. Like I said, the descriptions vary. I've heard tales of a huge furry beast with leathery wings, a ghost with wild black hair concealing its features… even an invisible demon. There have been reports of the creature flying and displaying supernatural strength. But every single sighting of this monster occurred mere metres away from a sewer manhole. Every single time. Some are even positive that they saw it emerge from the sewers."

"Hmmm." Bubblegum's face displayed nothing but quiet fascination with perhaps a tinge of apprehension, though she was quite a bit more disturbed by this rumour than she let on.

"Of course, I'm not going to stop you," Peppermint Technician continued as he turned back around to face his creator. "It's not my place. But if you do intend to study this creature, I warn you that it might be more than you can handle…"

Bubblegum nodded slowly. "I see. I'll be sure to take all the equipment necessary. Thank you anyway, Peppermint Technician."

The peppermint's smile was rather grim. "Well, good luck. I think you might need it, even if the rumour isn't true. In the meantime…" The technician glanced over his shoulder, gesturing at the plethora of reaction apparatus set up around the room. Most of the reactions had now petered out. "Would you like me to clean this up for you?"

"Oh, yes," Bubblegum replied, hastily handing over her clipboard. "Also, make sure that you table these results for future reference."

And with that, she dashed out of the laboratory and into the oak-panelled corridor beyond, barely noticing the familiar portraits of deceased professors that adorned the walls. Adrenalin filled her veins and anticipation filled her body. For not only now was the chance to gather the vital ingredient for her serum, but also for something that she had not been able to do in a long time… fieldwork.

Perhaps this particular subject was a mere rumour. Perhaps it was deadly, and perhaps she was better off not studying it at all. But the intrigue had gripped her.

And there was nothing that could possibly stop her.

* * *

Distorted light shimmered on the surface of obsidian-textured water as Bubblegum navigated the brick-lined tunnel, panning her head in a wide arc as she paced along the walkway. As she did so, the lamp fitted to her helmet illuminated the shadows, revealing islands of waste and detritus that bobbed like toxic buoys on the water; mottled grey sludge, barrels bleeding rust-coloured liquid, and other things that were perhaps best left undescribed.

There was no contest as to the worst aspect of Ooo's sewers, however; as with almost every sewer in the known world, it was the stench that was the true problem. The odour was a foul mixture of human and animal waste, with sharp, acidic notes of diluted chemical vapours. Bubblegum now sincerely regretted the decision she had made not to take her specially modified gas mask – she had initially thought that the restricted vision of the mask would be a disadvantage when hunting for manticores and possibly other unknown creatures. But so far, neither of those two things were to be found.

Inhaling a gulp of putrid air, the professor unfolded a detailed map titled "The Sewers of the City of Ooo" in elaborate lettering. The map placed her at a junction just to the west of the city centre, several miles south of her entrance point at the university. Turning left at the junction ahead would lead her to the grand central chamber of the network; or the beating heart of the sewer, as some liked to call it. A wide room, as perfectly round as a penny, containing an elaborate matrix of pipes and a gigantic water pump. Bubblegum had only been there once before whilst investigating an infestation of plumbumliads – tiny pests that fed on a diet entirely composed of lead. But if the manticores that she had heard of did indeed roam these sewers, it was likely that at least some of them would have found their way to the chamber ahead.

Bubblegum's gloved fingers twitched in anticipation as she turned the corner. She began to fiddle with the cork stopper of her collection beaker as she approached, gradually nearing the steel door ahead that connected to the central chamber. A gargantuan wall of black water cascaded from above, joining the stream of refuse adjacent to the door.

For a moment, the unrelenting storm of the waterfall and the scientist's soft breathing were the only audible sounds within the tunnel.

But then, a disturbance rippled through water and air alike in the form of an unmistakeable splashing sound. Bubblegum hastily whipped around, one hand clutching a syringe loaded with sedative, ready to strike. But whatever had made the splashing had vanished into the depths, leaving only a few concentric ripples across the surface of the water to mark its passing.

The scientist's body tensed. She continued on her previous path, albeit cautiously – every step was measured and calculated, every glance full of doubt and suspicion.

When she reached the door at long last, she gripped the partially rusted handle and twisted firmly.

The door swung open with a mournful creak, as though it were lamenting the current condition of the sewers in an echoing elegy that was painful and almost haunting to hear.

The chamber beyond was engulfed almost entirely in darkness. Only the vaguest outlines of the haphazard pipes overhead and the behemoth water pump were visible. Bubblegum's headlamp meant that she could only clearly see a few paces in front of her.

A couple of steps forward and the professor's face collided with a curtain of slimy weed that dangled over the side of a flaking pipe. As she disentangled herself from the offending plant, she saw that the leaves and stem were coloured an unnatural bright scarlet hue. The slimy substance it secreted was azure; a colour that reminded Bubblegum of pure copper sulphide solution.

" _Hydronicus scarletta,_ " the professor whispered. Her voice ricocheted off the nearby pipes, resulting in an endless reverberation that filled the entire chamber. Ignoring the insistent echo, Bubblegum focused on the fact that the discovery of a specimen like this was a good sign. After all, manticores had sometimes been known to eat _scarletta_ plants when other types of food were scarce.

A sudden metallic _clang_ sounded directly above, instantly alerting the scientist. Bubblegum braced herself, this time unhooking the syringe from her belt. Perhaps this was the moment she had been waiting for. She pivoted in a full circle, keeping her eyes trained on the pipes overhead as the small circle of light cast by her headlamp illuminated each area in turn.

She waited patiently but restlessly, unmoving yet trembling from the vibrations caused by her hammering heart. The minutes melted into the surrounding darkness. But there was nothing.

A sudden black streak. A pain in the back of her head. An abrupt descent into oblivion.

These three events occurred so quickly and in such rapid succession, the sharp mind of Professor Bonnibel Bubblegum was at a loss to notice them, let alone comprehend them.

She felt herself crumple to the cold ceramic floor.

After that, she felt nothing.

Her senses were returned to her one by one.

Firstly, scent assaulted her nostrils; the pungent stench of the contaminated sewer water, but also with an underlying hint of something perhaps a little more pleasant. Bubblegum's newly awakened mind could not yet find the words to properly describe the scent, but it was a substantial, musky odour; somehow it just made her feel warm and comfortable.

The scientist felt soft and tickly strands of fur beneath her cheek. For a moment she was almost certain that she was leaning against the hide of some sort of animal, but dismissed the idea once she found she could not detect the distinctive thud of a beating pulse from within. She also became aware of an incessant throb near the back of her head; the bruise left by the head injury that caused her to fall unconscious. However, as far as Bubblegum knew, that was the extent of the damage.

Her amethystine eyes opened slowly and painfully. An incomprehensible blur was all she could see until she had managed to blink away the sticky film coating her cornea. Her sight confirmed what she had initially suspected; she was curled in a foetal position on a fluffy, albeit horrendously stained and battered, rug that was strewn across the brick floor of the sewer. From what she could see in the negligible illumination cast from a small drainage grate in the ceiling overhead, she was still in the central chamber. The rusty pipes criss-crossing above were unmistakeable.

Bubblegum's tongue detected the faint ferrous tang of haemoglobin, but she did not appear to be bleeding elsewhere. Her throat was constricted and dry, positively crying out for a drink – but unfortunately for the professor, not a drop of safe, edible water was in sight.

Finally, sound returned to the world as Bubblegum's senses ascended into full wakefulness. The ceaseless sound of running water practically surrounded her, flowing through the monstrous pump before being redirected through an elaborate, although decrepit, system of waterways. The beating heart of the city of Ooo.

However, it was not the only sound the scientist could hear.

A loud and rather distasteful slurping noise emanated from a point not three metres away. As Bubblegum swivelled her eyes in the direction of the noise, her gaze settled on a woman who could not have been much older than twenty, floating lackadaisically above the water, as though settled on a cushion of air. Thick black hair sprouted from her scalp, forming tangled and messy strands that reached down to the small of her back. Her ebony clothes were little more than rags; her ripped trousers ended just below the knee, exposing pale legs and bare feet. Her shirt and jacket were in a similar condition, peppered with holes and slash marks, the black fabric fraying at the hem. It was difficult to see her face, since she was out of the direct range of the light streaming in from above, but she seemed to be clutching a clump of the _scarletta_ weed in her hand, and was… eating it? No, not quite. As Bubblegum's eyes adjusted further to the darkness, she could see that was not the case.

An elongated canine had sunk into the scarlet weed, and as the woman slurped, more and more of the weed's claret hue disappeared, until the entire plant was bone-white but for the bluish liquid it secreted. As soon as the _scarletta_ had been reduced of its redness, the black-haired woman tossed the plant over her shoulder, for it to fall with a splash into the water.

Bubblegum felt the hairs on her arms jump upward as though electrostatically charged. In that instant, she recalled what Peppermint Technician had said to her: _"As though something had sucked them completely of their colour…"_

Could this really be it? Could that woman really be the terrifying killer she had heard so much about?

The professor made a rapid grab for her sedative syringe, only for her fingers to close on empty air.

"Oh, Glob," she breathed. But as the memories returned, she realised that it made sense. After being attacked, she would've been stripped of all her technology and weaponry – even her goggles and collection beaker had disappeared. Whoever her captor was, she clearly didn't approve of scientific equipment and apparatus.

The floating woman turned her face in the scientist's direction, having heard Bubblegum's muttered curse. Eyes of a dark crimson that seemed to glow like molten lava in the darkness met with the professor's own. The indirect light outlined sharply pointed ears and thin, angular features. As she casually approached the place where Bubblegum lay, the scientist noticed that she carefully avoided the bars of sunlight that blazed in from above.

"So you're finally awake, huh?" the crimson-eyed woman observed as she floated almost directly above Bubblegum's body. The claret irises contained intrigue, although there was also a hint of ravenous desire there; she regarded Bubblegum as though she were an oddly shaped or curiously coloured joint of meat, but still a joint of meat none the less. Her elongated canines glinted dangerously in the meagre light. "Well, good morning."

Bubblegum tried to ignore the aching sensation in the back of her head as she awkwardly sat up. "I… I suppose that means I slept all night."

"You did," the other woman confirmed, absently scratching the back of her ear. "After I knocked you out, I injected you with some of that sedative stuff you were carrying for good measure."

"Oh. Right. I see…" Despite her internal panic, Bubblegum did her utmost to remain calm and courteous on the outside. "So… who are you, exactly? My name is Professor Bonnibel Bubblegum, but you can call me Bonnibel if you prefer." She smiled as genially as she could under the circumstances.

The other girl's dark eyebrows rose. "So you're willing to go on first name terms with someone you've just met? Glob, you surface people can be so weird sometimes." She shrugged. "Well, whatever. My name's Marceline. Marceline Abadeer. I don't care what you call me. Chances are that I've already been called it anyway."

"So…" Bubblegum made a wide gesture with both arms, to indicate the entire chamber. "Do you live here? In the sewers?"

"Yeah. Home sweet home." Marceline's voice had a sharp, underlying note of bitterness to it. She floated right over Bubblegum's head before continuing, causing the scientist to twist her body around in order to follow her movements. "And this is my pad, right here."

Marceline's "pad" consisted only of the rug that Bubblegum sat on, a battered pink soft toy with the fabric of its head and arms stitched together like patchwork, a dark umbrella and a large acoustic guitar fitted with steel strings. The latter was painted a violent red hue similar to Marceline's irises, and the headstock was fashioned in the shape of a skull, with bony tuning forks protruding from the instrument. The dark-haired woman hefted the guitar onto her knees and strummed the metal strings whilst still floating. The bright, clear sound vibrated throughout the entire room, echoing gradually into emptiness.

"Yep, it's just me, my guitar, and Hambo. There used to be a group of manticores in here, too. But they cleared out a few weeks ago."

Bubblegum blinked at that revelation, remembering her original goal. "You know where the manticores can be found?" she asked eagerly.

"Nah. They used to be here, though." She struck a chord on her guitar, once again causing the sound to reverberate through the area.

"Oh." To Bubblegum's surprise, her tone didn't sound very disappointed. But then, why would it be? She may have lost the manticores, but instead she had landed herself with a rare and very intriguing specimen. A very potentially _dangerous_ specimen, but still…

"Hmm… You know, I was wondering… just how, exactly, do you do that?" she asked, her eyes shining with fascination.

"Huh?" Marceline muttered, looking up from her instrument. "You mean… this guitar…?"

"Oh, no, no," clarified Bubblegum. "I was referring to your ability to float. Is it natural? Is it the result of a genetic mutation? Are you perhaps using some sort of magnetic field or electrostatic charge to levitate off the ground?"

Silence ensued between the two women. For several seconds, Marceline simply stared at Bubblegum as though she had suggested something completely ridiculous. Then she threw back her head and howled with laughter – so shrilly that the scientist before her flinched.

"Hah hah! You surface people _are_ nuts! Heh heh…" The noirette shook her head. "I don't really know, to be honest. I've had this ability since I died. I've just accepted it since then."

It was Bubblegum's turn to stare silently at Marceline, and she did so with an expression of utter incredulity plastered on her face. "What… what do you mean… you _don't know?!_ You just _accepted_ it like it was nothing?!" She sighed. "Well, that mystery has just made me even more intrigued to find out…" Her fingers itched. She wished she still had her syringe of sedative so she could tranquilise and dissect this woman on the spot. She desperately wanted to know just what was going on in there…

Marceline smirked. "And here I thought you'd be worried about the fact that I just told you I'm dead."

"Yes, that's quite strange, too…" Bubblegum mused. "Clearly, your neurons are still firing and your muscles can contract… so how exactly are you dead?"

"Well… for starters, I'm a vampire." Her scarlet eyes met with the professor's, as though expecting another outburst, but she continued without interruption. "I can float. I can morph into a huge bat-like creature. I'm impervious to almost anything you can throw at me. Swords, poison, bullets, whatever. I've been alive – well, undead – for almost a thousand years. I've seen hundreds of lifetimes come and go…" As Marceline pronounced the last word, she abruptly vanished. "Oh, and I can turn invisible as well." The vampire re-materialised inches from Bubblegum's face, hanging upside-down as though suspended from a trapeze rope.

The scientist merely blinked in response. Her heart thudded even faster – now not just from fear, but from excitement. This moment felt truly special – as though she were the first to make direct contact with a living, or rather, undead vampire.

"There are disadvantages," Marceline continued. "I can't go directly into the sunlight, or I'll burn up and get blisters all over my body. I can only eat the colour red. Literally, just the colour –"

"How does it taste?" Bubblegum interrupted. "And for that matter, how does that even work?"

"You ask a lot of weird questions," replied Marceline.

"Well, I'm a scientist." Bubblegum grinned. "It's kind of my job."

Marceline flipped her body around so she now floated right-side up. "Well, then. Aren't you wondering why I live down here, in the sewers, rather than up top in that fancy city of yours? Aren't you curious as to why I haven't decided to eat you yet?"

Bubblegum's grin melted into a serious expression. It was true. The vampire could've taken any opportunity in their conversation so far to suck her dry of all colour. But so far, she hadn't even come close. However, the professor decided to answer Marceline's questions with one of her own.

"To what extent would you say the rumours are true?"

"Hm?" The crimson-eyed vampire looked puzzled for a moment, but upon realising what the other woman was referring to, she burst into peals of sarcastic laughter. "Oh, _those_ rumours! Tell me, what are they saying about me? Actually, no, don't. I know the gist of it already. They think I'm a monster." The word echoed around the spacious chamber, reflecting off the walls, as though the entire sewer was in agreement with the people of the city; that Marceline Abadeer was, in fact, a monster.

"But they don't know me. I never _chose_ to live like this. It's not my fault that I can only eat the colour red. It's not my fault that everyone just shuns me, _abandons_ me, just because of the way I am! It's not my fault that I have to kill so many people just to stay alive. There's a limited supply of red around, and I need enough to nourish me!" Marceline was practically screaming at this point. Anger pulsated in her red irises, along with a malevolent desire for destruction, directed primarily at Bubblegum. "And the only reason I haven't eaten _you_ yet…" She broke off, hesitating, as she struggled to continue.

The lack of words caused her anger to seep right out of her, and she gradually descended from her lofty perch until she settled on the rug, directly opposite Bubblegum, her guitar still balanced across her thighs. "It's… it's complicated…" She looked down momentarily, her long obsidian hair concealing her features from view. "I wanted… I _needed_ … someone to talk to. When I first saw you, scuttling along in the sewers by yourself, I thought at first that you were some moron who had come down here hoping to prove that I didn't exist, or something. But… that's not why you're here. You're… interesting, I guess. And, well, I can't remember the last time I saw someone as cute as you walk into the sewers."

For a second, Bubblegum wondered if she had heard right. "Cu-cute?"

"Well, yeah. You've got a bit of a pretty-princess look about you. It's not something I usually dig, but…"

"I'm a professor, actually," Bubblegum interjected gently.

"Fine. Pretty-professor look, then. Whatever." Marceline's gaze bored into the twin amethysts of the other girl. "And don't get me wrong… that pink hair of yours looks delicious. Maybe I'll have it for dessert."

The vampire was now a bit too close for comfort. Bubblegum attempted to edge away, but Marceline clamped a hand on her shoulder, restricting her movement. The scientist rapidly searched for something, anything to say that would distract from the awkwardness of the situation. "Uh, so… what's it like… being immortal?"

Marceline scoffed. "Not as good as you think. Just imagine _this,_ Bonnie: imagine all your friends, family, loved ones… your best friends, your parents, children… imagine watching them all grow up while you stayed young forever. Imagine losing them, one after another, until there's no-one left. And then you're somewhere close to my situation. But you're still not quite there. Because you won't _ever_ experience that feeling.

"It's _wrong._ It's unnatural. Everything just becomes meaningless. So what if you love someone? It'll only be about fifty or sixty years, at most, before they die. Sometimes I wonder if there's any point at all…"

"Is there a point in anything, Marceline?" Bubblegum asked. The name sounded strange on her lips, but she continued without hesitation. "Eventually my own legacy as a scientist will die. All my work will be lost, turned to ashes. There will only be a few who will still remember my name. But that doesn't matter to me. You-"

"You've got to live in the present, enjoy it while it lasts, yeah, I get it." Marceline made a face. "But do you not think that I didn't try to make the most of things? _It doesn't work._ I'm stuck in an endless cycle, forever and constantly. It just _won't_ get better for me. Every time I try to use that sort of philosophy, I'll just be brought down again in the end." She paused. "You should try it, Bonnibel. Being _undead._ I don't even have a heartbeat. Feel it."

Before Bubblegum could protest, Marceline grabbed her arm by the wrist and guided it to the centre of her chest. The professor's face flushed at the contact. But her words held true. Nothing could be heard from the silent void that was Marceline's chest. It was… empty. The vampire was, quite literally, a heartless being.

Marceline took the professor's pink face in her pale hands. "I'll show you what it's like… and you can experience it…" Her left hand travelled down to the lapel of Bubblegum's jacket, pulling the fabric away to fully expose the scientist's neck. "Forever."

Before Bubblegum fully realised what Marceline was about to do, before she could utter any words of protest, before she could even _think_ of doing such a thing – the vampire's fangs had pierced her carotid artery. A millisecond before she even knew it, she was dying… _un_ dying.

Oddly, she felt no pain. Only the sensation that she and Marceline were becoming conjoined… as though merging together, becoming one entity, their bodies, their genes, their very atoms intermingling and intertwining with one another.

 _Forever._


	2. Oneiric Nightmare

**Oneiric Nightmare**

 **Universe:** Genderbent canon universe.

 **Pairing:** Gumlee, but with mentions of Fiogum (one-sided feelings).

 **Words:** 8,829

 **Rating:** T for some mild gore, verbal profanity and potentially distressing situations.

 **Summary:** When Ooo's greatest hero, Fionna, is afflicted by a magical curse, Marshall Lee and Gumball enter her dreams in an attempt to fight the monster that has entered her mind. However, as the two inevitably begin to bicker, their plan falls apart completely and their shared dream quickly becomes a horrific nightmare.

* * *

Soft sunlight struck a billowing cloud of dust particles as it poured through an overhead skylight, causing the dispersed motes to glimmer and sparkle like myriad airborne gemstones.

The bar of light fell almost directly onto the face of a youthful teenage girl, her face framed by undulating ripples of thick blonde hair that burst forth, no longer constrained by the distinctive hat she usually wore. Her pale faced appeared to glow in the illumination, relaxed and serene, her eyes gently closed.

Only… she was _too_ serene.

The cream-and-ginger tail of Cake the Cat swished nervously through the air as the feline regarded her friend, with concern etched across her whiskered face.

"Oh, sister," she murmured weightily, practically sighing the words out. "It's been almost three days now, an' chew still haven't woken up…"

On the opposite side of Fionna's bed stood the hunched, lab coat-swathed figure of Doctor Prince, who was busy manipulating a syringe of clear liquid. "Quiet, please," he muttered without diverting his eyes from the task at hand. "I'm measuring out a dose here. I have to be _very_ cautious to get the right amount, or your friend's head may explode."

Cake cringed at the imagery that the doctor's words brought up within her mind. Fionna was already within a precarious enough state as it was. In this instance, she was as calm as a sailing ship on a breezeless ocean, but Doctor Prince had informed her earlier that the human's situation was unstable at best. Reportedly, she had been writhing uncontrollably throughout the course of the previous night, and had even come close to choking on her own vomit.

It was too late for regrets, but the shapeshifting feline couldn't help but wish that they had never entered that dungeon in the first place. The warnings were all too obvious, but the daring duo were always willing to forsake a few disturbing rumours if an epic adventure and a rare and powerful treasure was involved. The allure of escapism and discovery was too much to resist.

And it had now come to this.

Cake was so absorbed in her emotions – a mournful stew of sorrow, guilt and fear – that she barely noticed the double doors at the far end of the infirmary swing open. The two portals, fashioned from twin giant slabs of chocolate, made a soft squeal as they revolved inwards on their hinges. Gentle footsteps echoed around the spacious room as they hit the biscuit-tiled floor, creating a rather subdued and apprehensive rhythm.

"Oh, Cake, you're already here, I see." As the friendly voice, tinged at the edges with melancholy, joined the footsteps, Cake finally broke out of her trance and turned to face the speaker.

Prince Bubba Gumball appeared as resplendent as ever in his magenta and rose-tinted outfit, his tuft accurately positioned and his bubblegum body at a perfectly upright angle. Yet the perfection of his features ended at his face. His cheeks were paler than usual, the stress lines on his forehead accentuated, his eyelids drooping with melancholy. The sadness in his amethystine eyes caused his gentle smile to curdle somewhat.

"Howdy, Gum-Gum," Cake greeted, though her sentence lacked its usual vigour and enthusiasm. "So you've come to see her too?"

"Of course," Gumball replied, edging closer to Fionna's bedside. He was cautious to steer clear of Doctor Prince, who was now carefully stirring another medical concoction in a beaker. "I came as soon as I could. I would've visited as soon as she was brought in, but I was rather busy at the time…" The candy prince sighed, his voice taking on an edge of bitterness. "Sometimes being prince of a kingdom really sucks."

Gumball gently extended his arm to sweep a stray lock of honeycomb hair out of Fionna's face. "I'm sorry, Fionna…" he murmured. The expression that he held as he gazed down at the comatosed human girl could only be described as heartbreaking.

Cake shook her head. "No, Gumball. If anyone should be sorry, it should be me. _I_ suggested enterin' that dungeon in the first place, without even knowin' how dangerous it was. I mean, if I had _known_ a monster like that was down there, an' it was willing to go this far to protect its treasure, then, well…"

"Don't blame yourself, Cake," Gumball replied without taking his eyes off Fionna. "There was no way you _could_ have known. The rumours surrounding that dungeon were vague, at best. And I had no idea that this monster was little more than a legend, until now…"

The bubblegum monarch straightened up and turned towards Doctor Prince. He hesitated a little before speaking, as though afraid of the potential response. "Doctor Prince… Have… have you made any more progress on developing a cure?"

"Not much," the doctor responded without turning around. "The concoction I'm currently mixing should be enough to keep her body functioning normally for another day. But as for actually waking her up, well… I fear we may be out of options. I've tried almost everything, but it seems there is no cure for this condition… this 'Oneiric Nightmare'. Did you say it was instigated by a magical curse?"

"Sorta…" Cake replied. "It happened jus' as we thought the monster was down for the count. Fionna had pierced the thing's heart with her sword, but then it just kinda dissolved into goo and then it… it… absorbed into Fi's body and… and…" The cat's voice broke.

"Magical curses aren't exactly my specialty," Doctor Prince admitted as he jabbed another syringe, this one stocked with the full concoction, into Fionna's forearm. He readjusted his glasses upon his nose. "If that's the case, perhaps you should go to Wizard City. Believe me, I've been there before and magical curses is almost all they talk about."

"Perhaps." Prince Gumball stroked his chin thoughtfully. "All knowledge of the creature causing Fionna's condition has been lost to the centuries. Legend has it that it was capable of entering the minds of its victims and incapacitating them by transforming into a nightmarish dream that prevented them from waking. There's no known cure, but maybe… just maybe…" The pink-haired monarch uttered the word as if it were a prayer to Glob. "…maybe Turtle Prince's library has something that can give us a few clues…"

Very suddenly, a derisive chortle reverberated around the room, followed swiftly by a disembodied voice, whose tone was just as derogatory. "Holy Glob, you must be desperate if you're thinking of getting advice from _that_ turtle-headed moron." Another mocking cackle followed before the voice continued, "It's honestly hilarious, how little you guys know, despite the fact that you _pretend_ to know everything."

Gumball clenched his jaws together, instantly recognising the voice as belonging to one of his less agreeable associates. "Marshall Lee, show yourself!" he demanded. "You're not supposed to be in here without a doctor's consent!"

Under his disguise of invisibility, the vampire's reply was ubiquitous. It was impossible to pinpoint his location by sound alone. "Ohohoho! What's the matter, Gummy? Does it bother you that you can't boss me around like one of your sweet, sugary little candy people, with all your rules and laws? Let me tell you, a vampire king takes orders from _no-one_."

The candy prince's entire body convulsed, his signature quiff undulating like jelly as he felt two icy palms make contact with his shoulders. Marshall Lee the Vampire King materialised at that moment, his fanged grin widening with glee at the way in which Gumball's face had paled. "Heh heh heh!" the vampire snickered. "You're so soft, Gummy. Too bad your brain is a tad _hard-boiled._ "

The bubblegum prince's rose-tinted face was now closer to the colour of the towering snowdrifts of the Ice Kingdom, but it quickly flushed back to an even deeper shade of pink as the monarch's brow creased in indignation. "How dare you!"

Crimson eyes rolled as Marshall leant casually backwards, floating freely in mid-air, before swivelling back to meet Gumball's. The vampire's irises glittered darkly, like twin rubies with sharply-cut edges. "Come on. Is that _really_ the best that you can do?"

Cake interjected before Gumball could emit another retort, turning on the newest arrival. "Jus' cut it out, Marshall! Whatcha doin' here anyways?" she demanded, her feline irises glowering.

"Whoa," Marshall Lee replied, chuckling lightly as he put his hand up in a time-out gesture. "Take it easy, kitty. I only came here to see Fionna. She's my friend too, isn't she?"

Gumball's eyes fixed on the vampire like purplish laser beams – albeit laser beams that were not very effective against their target, as Marshall simply ignored them. The prince was fine with the vampire having come to visit Fionna, but he strongly objected to the lack of respect he got from the black-haired rocker. Why was it that Marshall always had to reduce him, making him seem like an utter _fool_ whenever he happened to be in the vampire's company?

Doctor Prince, meanwhile, surveyed the unfolding scene impassively from behind the lenses of his dark-rimmed glasses. "Well, I suppose my work here for the moment is done," he muttered conclusively, stopping only momentarily to pick up a briefcase before striding towards the door.

"W-wait!" Gumball called, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. "Don't you… surely there's… some other way… some advice you can give us?"

Doctor Prince did not look back, even as he grabbed the chocolate handle of the door. "You heard. I've done my analysis. There is no known cure for her condition." He waved dismissively. "I will be back to check on her in five hours' time. In the meantime, Doctor Ice Cream will oversee her."

As the door closed with an echoing slam, Marshall shot a triumphant smirk Gumball's way. "Expert advice can only go so far, Gummy. Guess it's a good thing I have the cure."

 _"_ _You have the cure?!"_ Gumball and Cake both screeched in unison, incredulous.

"Mmm-hmm." Marshall's arms were folded nonchalantly as he hovered above the ground, eyes closed.

"Why didn't you say so earlier?" Every word that Gumball spoke was insistent and sharp, as though signalling a countdown to detonation.

Marshall rolled over in the air, so that he was facing the other two with his stomach parallel to the ground. "It didn't seem like it was that much of deal. Not until I heard about what happened last night, though…"

In response, Cake huffed. "That kinda makes me question how good a friend you are to her, really. If you _knew_ what was wrong, then why didn't cha just come straightaway?"

The vampire's scarlet gaze fixed on the cat. "I don't think you'd understand. I live a… pretty complicated lifestyle." He punctuated the last sentence with an irritatingly enigmatic smirk.

Gumball did his best to reign in his frustration. "Alright, Marshall. Where's this cure?" It was even more difficult to keep the longing from entering his voice.

"Right here." After a quick rummage in the hooded cloak that Marshall had donned to protect himself from the outside sun, he brought out a sizeable crystalline vial filled with soft cream-coloured powder, each mote as round and fluffy as a dandelion clock.

"This is Dream Powder," Marshall informed before Gumball had time to ask. "One single breath of this stuff causes you to fall asleep, and allows you to enter the dreams of those around you."

Violet eyes filled with a chaotically swirling mixture of wonder, fascination and incredulity fixed on the vial the vampire held. "So… your plan is… that we enter Fionna's dream… and try to expunge the monster from the inside?"

Marshall's smirk widened. "Correct. Hey, Gummy, you might not be so hard-boiled after all."

"That's still a ridiculous and rather reckless idea," Gumball huffed, his mouth curdling. "Entering someone's dreams? Do you have any idea of the amount of risk involved in that, Marshall? It could end up affecting our psychology permanently, and –"

"Ya think I didn't know?" Marshall casually tossed the crystal container upwards as he said this. Gumball felt his stomach involuntarily lurch as the vial plummeted, only for Marshall to capture it expertly at the last minute before it hit the ground. "Life's more fun when you live it risky."

"I can agree with that," Cake put in.

Gumball's facial muscles tensed in aggravation. He didn't want to do this. He had an intense feeling of trepidation in his abdomen, as though something would go horribly wrong, with the situation ending up far worse than before, should he agree to this. But what if it really was the only way? What if… what if he _had_ to take this risk in order to see Fionna's glimmering oceanic eyes again, in order to see fierce determination irradiate her face as though a passionate flame blazed within her?

A long pause followed – or at least, to Gumball, it felt as though an aeon had passed; an uncertain balance between two decisions. "I… alright. Fine. Let's do it, Marshall."

"Yeah!" Cake cheered, considerably more ecstatic now that she knew there was a course of action she could take in order to save her friend. "Fi, we're comin' for ya!"

The candy monarch cleared his throat. "Er… Cake. I think it's best if you don't come in with us. We'll need someone to stay awake, to watch over us and wake us up when the time comes. Also, when Doctor Ice Cream arrives, you can inform him of what's happening."

Cake's smile snapped off her face. "Wh-what? Why… why me?! You know that I bash on monsters fer a livin'! You guys'll need me in there."

Gumball's mouth twisted uncomfortably. "This… I'm not sure if this monster will be the same type that you're used to. It'll require… more than just a bashing. Right, Marshall?"

Marshall Lee shrugged. "Hey, come on. I know as much as you do about this thing. I just figured that because it involved dreams, we could use this stuff." He tapped his pale fingers against the surface of the vial.

"But… if you an' Marshall go in alone… won't cha just start arguin' an' messin' everythin' up?" Cake protested.

"It'll… it'll be fine, Cake." Gumball was struggling to believe his own words. "Besides… you know so little about this creature. I'm not really sure if you're prepared for it…"

"I can take on anything –"

"No, you can't," Marshall interrupted, his voice surprisingly and uncharacteristically earnest. "Gummy's right for once. You see… in a dream, crazy stretching powers mean nothing. From what I've heard, this monster fights with its _mind_ , not its body… however that works. Gumball might be able to handle it, but you…"

Cake's expression changed rapidly from determined, to crestfallen, and then to one of outrage; changing with an exaggerated stiffness that was almost comical, like a series of photographic stills being projected through a film reel. "You… so you… think I'm… _thick_?" she spluttered, not so much inquiring as demanding.

"Well, no, of course not, but –" Gumball started.

"Well, yeah," Marshall Lee replied bluntly. The vampire ignored the glare the candy prince sent his way. "But that's only the half of it. See, you have absolutely no idea what you're getting into. That's why you can't come."

Before Cake had time to protest again, Gumball cut in hurriedly: "Cake, we _need_ you out here. Fionna needs you, too. It's not just as simple as kicking a monster around the block this time."

"Whatever," Cake huffed, refusing to meet the eyes of the others, her feline irises instead fixed on Fionna. "It's your choice. But if something happens to Fi and I'm not in there –" She broke off, her voice wavering with worry.

"Everything will be all right, Cake," Gumball murmured sympathetically, though the assurance of his words was hollow.

"Let's get going, Gummy." Marshall turned towards him, claret orbs showing nothing but sincerity. He was no longer floating; he stood, poised and tense, though he deliberately hung back from the shaft of sunlight that lanced across the room. He dug his pale fingers into the vial and brought up a large handful of slumber-inducing powder to his nose. Just before the vampire's face became slack and vacant with sleepiness, Gumball thought he saw a smirk flash from Marshall's lips, as though he was attempting to convey a secret message.

As the vampire fell back in a drowsy and rather melodramatic collapsing sequence, he tossed the vial upward, throwing it in a tall enough arc to allow Gumball to stumble forward and catch it before it hit the ground.

"Good luck." Cake muttered as the bubblegum monarch shoved his hand inside. The cat's voice was still morose, but her words were genuine. Gumball nodded in the seconds before he filled his nose with dream dust and watched the world around him blur and distort into oblivion.

* * *

"You took your time, didn't cha?"

That sarcastic and impatient sentence was the first thing Gumball became aware of upon entering the dream. He heard it before he saw anything, much less before he saw Marshall Lee himself.

Scenery erupted into existence around him, fully formed from its first moment of creation. A quixotic paradise unravelled before him and out in all directions; an impossibly gnarled and beautiful oak tree dominated the area, radiating gigantic buttress roots that were each vast enough to accommodate an entire city. The upper branches were lost in the atmosphere, the moss on the roots stretching for miles. Coils of twisted vines, thick as the stone towers of a fortress, constricted the great tree, whose diameter was probably larger than that of the entire planet of Ooo. An indigo lake, more aptly called an ocean, pooled in a world-sized hollow beneath the arboreal behemoth, filled to the brim with an entire galaxy of stars. The celestial lights shone brightly, despite the fact that the sun shone down simultaneously from a cloudlessly blue sky.

Gumball observed the dreamscape from his vantage point, from the edge of one of those leviathan roots, its mahogany cliffs plummeting into infinity before reaching the surface of the lake. Although Gumball had read up extensively on the subject of dream-travel, nothing he had read in the battered tomes of his personal library had prepared him for… this. For lack of a better word, Gumball was dumbstruck.

It took a few moments before he could tear his eyes from the scene, etched in such phenomenal detail – he even began doubting that it was really a dream – to meet the expectant gaze of Marshall Lee.

"O-of course," he replied somewhat detachedly. "Time is meaningless within dreams. A single second in the real word could equal entire hours within the dreamscape…"

Marshall shrugged dismissively. "Whatever. You're here now, and that's what matters. So tell me, genius: if this place is supposed to be a nightmare, then why in the fucking Nightosphere does it look and feel so lovely? I mean, I can't remember the last time I felt sunlight like this without burning up."

"From what I've read, this is the dreamscape monster's way of preventing its host from waking. If you were having a nightmare _all_ the time, then the terror would eventually be enough to shock you awake. Or perhaps you'd eventually realise that you were dreaming and your mind would start to fight back. Either way, that's why the monster constantly changes the dreamscape. It keeps things running just like a real dream, but keeps everything just plausible and wonderful enough to keep its host subdued. Sometimes it even uses its host's own memories to construct a dreamscape. But it isn't always rosy and perky; it fluctuates between good and bad, like real life. Hence the name _Oneiric Nightmare_."

"Sounds great," Marshall replied, glancing down at the swirling constellations in the water below. "Glad to have you on board, know-it-all. Will we be able to change the dream at all, y'know, just by thinking about it?"

"Um, no." Gumball was unsure whether to take his dubbing of _know-it-all_ as an insult or compliment. Knowing Marshall, it was probably an insult. "It doesn't work like that here. I guess you've dream-travelled before. But in an Oneiric Nightmare, we're almost as helpless as the host. Of course, we know that we're dreaming… but that doesn't mean we can manipulate it. This is the monster's creation, Marshall… I think that any attempt to change it might alert it to our presence… or worse…"

At that, Marshall chortled in his typical derisive manner. "What's worse than that, Gummy? C'mon. We're in a dream. We can do anything, right?"

"Marshall," Gumball insisted, his anger growing. "Did you listen to a word that I've said?"

"Who's the more experienced dream-traveller here?" the vampire posed, red eyes pulsing.

"Marshall - !"

Before the pink-haired candy monarch could register what was happening, he was plummeting the endless drop down to the lake. A body pressed against his own, dragging him downwards, a fanged smirk visible several inches from his face. "Marshall…?" he mouthed, surprised at the vampire's proximity. But even moreso, he was surprised at the fact that he wasn't feeling uncomfortable at the close contact, or angry that Marshall had recklessly thrown himself with Gumball in tow off the edge. In that moment, violet eyes clashed with red. The candy prince merely felt content – safe, almost, in the vampire's tight grasp. Although he couldn't rationalise the feeling, he could hardly deny that it was there. Unless that, too, was perhaps part of the dream?

All too soon, vampire and prince separated. They hit the water, but that instant was not an experience of submersion; instead, it was almost like passing through a window and then rebounding off the other side of the surface, as if it were an aquatic trampoline. Gumball shot upwards before corkscrewing towards the ground, his body revolving too rapidly for him to be aware of much more other than a beige-greenish blur. He hit the ground much more softly than was realistically possible. But then again, this wasn't exactly reality, after all.

Gumball picked himself up, his eyes immediately settling on Marshall Lee's perfectly upright, unruffled body just a few short metres away. The vampire had his back to him, his ruby irises fixed on the scene before him: a veritable plethora of granite detritus, a series of crumbling ruins, decrepit but still retaining a mystic and grandiose aura. The ruins curved upwards endlessly in an enigmatic, tiered spiral, amphitheatre-like and interspersed with all manner of foliage. Yet the sky above was non-existent.

"Marshall, where are we?" Gumball demanded as soon as he had reoriented himself enough to stand without wobbling. Even so, he skittered slightly on the sepia stones. "What in Glob's name did you _do_?" The candy prince spoke the last word of that sentence as though Marshall had committed an act of utter perfidy.

"Calm down, Gummy. I know what I'm doing. Big old Dreamguts hasn't noticed us yet, I assure you." Before Gumball could protest otherwise, the vampire rapidly continued. "Look, it doesn't _matter_ if he does notice us or not. So long as we have enough time to find Fionna and convince her that she's dreaming, everything's rosy, right?"

"You don't understand, Marshall," Gumball stated in exasperation. _You idiot_ , he almost added.

The red-eyed immortal shook his head, spluttering. "Oh, Gumball, _Gumball_! There are so many things that _you_ don't understand, well, I wouldn't even know where to begin." His tone grew more impatient and irritable, his eyes smouldering like bubbling magma. "All you ever do is read dusty old books. That's where all your know-how comes from. But I'm the expert here, you see. I can sense Fionna's presence here, in these ruins. Probably thinks she's having the adventure of a lifetime. But she _isn't_. That's why you've got to wake up to reality, Pinky. You can't pretend that you're still in your cosy little castle, holed up in some library, nibbling on those pathetic little cupcakes you love so much. It's like _you're_ the one who's stuck in a dream. Just so fucking oblivious." Marshall's eyes snapped away from Gumball's gaze. "Well, do you want to save Fionna or what?" he spat bitterly.

Gumball attempted to reply with his own retort, but the words stuck in his throat as though caught in a spider's web hanging just above his larynx. He couldn't argue with Marshall's tirade. It was true. Not only that; it also disoriented and confused Gumball, throwing him right off balance. Marshall had driven an unforeseen knife into his gut, hit him with a fault of his that he hadn't even been previously aware of. And there was something else, too. Something that hid behind Marshall's words, a shadowed truth, just out of Gumball's hearing range. But he could sense it.

A shade too bewildered to answer, Gumball merely followed the vampire into the looming entrance of the ruined dungeon.

The fern-framed beige brickwork quickly gave way to a damp, columned tunnel dripping with turgid moss. The enclosed walls pulsated with dim, eerie luminescence of a dilute indigo hue. The echoing chord of Gumball's heels against the bricks abruptly turned into a series of thick splashes. The candy monarch glanced downwards, realising through that action that the dungeon's floor was covered with a thin watery meniscus that pooled around the feet of the columns in urgent ripples, rapidly clambering up the sides, borne by extreme surface tension. All around the two infiltrators, water was moving _up_ the contour of the walls, sloshing towards the invisible recesses of the ceiling through inverted waterfalls. Had it not been for the obscenely coloured weeds that flourished between the cracks and chasms of the brickwork, Gumball could have appreciated the place as having a sort of mysterious beauty.

Marshall sped rather angrily ahead, his toes lightly skimming the water as he floated onwards, indifferent to Gumball's calls of "Marshall, wait up!" The candy monarch eventually broke into a run, but with the deepening water now lapping up almost to his thighs, it was getting more and more difficult for him to manoeuvre. The vampire was steadily fading into the vanishing point of his vision.

"Marshall!" Gumball yelped, suddenly desperate at the notion that said vampire might actually leave him – totally alone, in this fabricated world that was out of his control, armed only with second-hand knowledge picked up from an out-of-date volume. "Marshall, what are you _doing?!_ You know we can't separate! That'll only increase our chances of becoming lost in the dream!" He almost stumbled over in the thick liquid around him, his arms flailing in order to keep balance, his body laden with water and soaked up to his belly. "I… I _know_ you understand, Marshall… I… I…" He hesitated a moment before speaking again, cringing slightly as he felt his pride slipping off his tongue amongst his words. "I _need_ you."

His words merely reverberated back to his own ears.

The fructose-coated prince continued, following the dark speck that was now Marshall, struggling through the depths, until a set of intricately carved steps saved him from total submersion. The steps were the same pale indigo as the walls, though they were woven through – _veined_ , in fact – with thick blue and crimson strands that shuddered and vibrated within the stone, as though they were the intricate tendrils of an incessantly pulsing circulatory system.

As Gumball stepped, sodden and gasping, onto the first step above the waterline, it came upon him like a shock wave; a ringing buzz that rattled his teeth and rocked his bone marrow. The sensation was intermittent, however. The stones paused between pairs of vibrations, eerily akin to a real heartbeat.

The sugary monarch's body shuddered both in anticipation and with the rippling pulse beneath his feet. These steps, with their entangled capillaries, were an unsettling and timely reminder that he was walking across the body of a baleful creature that, should it sense his presence, could easily crush him, and wipe him away like an irritating gnat half-drowned in its sweat. But it wasn't just that; although Gumball had read that the monster's organs and biological systems could occasionally manifest within the Oneiric Nightmare itself, that usually only occurred when the dreamscape had been altered. In other words, whenever the creature deliberately changed its surreal form, a tiny portion of its original guise appeared momentarily as its cells reconfigured and readjusted; a gigantic web of bronchioles leaning out of a mountain, a matrix of neural tissue hanging amongst the boughs of trees. An ode to the fact that this dream was not a dream at all, but actually an organic, sentient, _living_ prison. And now it stirred.

Gumball was almost afraid to find out what had changed, though it was the _why_ that bothered him even more so. Perhaps this was merely a change engineered to preserve Fionna's blissfully oblivious state, but if not… If Marshall had instigated this change, then it would not be a stretch to say that he and Gumball were done for.

The vibrations stopped suddenly, the arteries and veins visible within the stone phasing back into the dreamscape. Gumball clambered to the crest of the stairwell, reorienting himself atop a raised walkway, support columns on either side plummeting downwards into a vertiginous drop. The marble path itself was barely two feet wide. The bubblegum prince picked his way along carefully but quickly, heading ever closer towards a circular platform in the distance. Beams of ice-blue light scattered in all directions from the stage, illuminating the infinite vaults of the ceiling overhead. As Gumball strode closer, his eyes picked up movement; a violent kinetic storm. Rose hairs pricking upwards in dread, he searched for any sign of Marshall amongst the energetic scuffle, but there was none to be seen. He _did_ , however, catch a sudden flash of blonde swirling within that tornado of antagonism.

 _Fionna._

He edged closer, more briskly, the desire to see if it was _really_ her nearly overpowering his caution. Yet he moved onward, and as he did, the distant figures gradually clarified.

Enamel-white eyebrows as sharp as icicles, narrowed cobalt irises and an avalanche of frosty hair materialised from the fray into the majestic figure of the Ice Queen. Frigid sparks danced across her razorlike fingertips as she fired bolts of icy magery towards her blonde adversary. Fionna dodged the barrage almost effortlessly, moving fluidly through the oneiric air, slashing clean through beams of pure crystallised magic with her glittering adamantine sword.

"Give it up, Icebrows!" the heroine crowed. "You're not laying one icy finger on Prince Gumball!"

Gumball was almost tempted to cheer at that remark. But he attempted to suppress the elation surging in his chest, remembering that the Ice Queen that Fionna was engaged in combat with was fake and meaningless. Besides, even though he had crossed the first hurdle by finding Fionna, he was far from being out of the woods just yet.

"Oh, _am_ I?" Ice Queen retorted, her smirk glaciating. "You might just be too late for that, Fionna the Human Girl." Yet another frosty charge arced from her fingers, yet this time it was aimed at a point wildly distant from said human; instead, it leapt over Fionna's head, clearing the distinctive upright ears of her hat, and towards a cowering pinkish figure some metres behind the girl; a fabricated facsimile of himself, Gumball realised.

The not-Gumball yelped pathetically as he attempted to retreat, but the beam of icy magic caught up to him before he could do so, wrapping around his leg and trapping it in a crystalline cocoon. Mimeo-Gumball fell flat on his face unceremoniously.

Gumball winced at the sight. Even though the Ice Queen was not actually targeting _him_ , the situation that unfolded before him was painfully realistic (Gumball had to admit there was some irony to that, considering that it had happened within a dream) and not all too different from some of his previous encounters with the Ice Queen. But _watching_ himself was far more agonising. Did he really appear so helpless, so vulnerable, so _pathetic_ , to Fionna's eyes? Considering it would have been the human girl's memories that had been used to construct the dream, he could only assume so.

Perhaps Marshall was right. Perhaps he really was a useless, spineless, soft-hearted child with no experience of the outside world. It was true that he often ensconced himself behind the protective walls of his kingdom, and on the few occasions when he left that sanctuary, he did so with a comfortable entourage of Banana Guardians and other precautionary measures. When was the last time he had exposed himself to this much danger, anyway?

But even as he was thinking this, he was desperately sprinting ever closer towards the battleground. Right now, Fionna needed him. And he could do it. He could prove that he wasn't useless, he could pull off the rescue, even without Marshall's help. He could _do_ it.

"Fionna!" he yelled, dashing right into the fray, ducking to avoid a blast of frigid radiation from the Ice Queen. "Listen to me! This is a dream!"

The blonde appeared to hesitate at that, marine irises regarding Gumball curiously. She glanced over her shoulder at the Gumball-puppet, slack and half-frozen on the floor, before snapping her gaze right back to him again. "A dream, you say?" The final two words of that sentence reverberated continuously through the surrounding air: _"You say? ...You say? ...Say? ...Say?"_

"Yeah." Gumball was aware of the fact that the vigorous action of a moment ago had abruptly ceased – suspended in a freeze-frame, the Ice Queen's frosty features petrified in a sadistic snarl. Aside from Gumball himself, Fionna was the only thing that moved, approaching him cautiously, her head cocked to one side.

"A _dream?_ Is that… is that why there's two of you? Is that why…" She glanced vaguely around the expansive chamber, visually absorbing the narrow stone walkway and the elaborate platform. "What _is_ this place…?"

"It's a dream," Gumball explained again, urgently. "Your mind is being psychologically manipulated by a dangerous monster, Fionna. It's kept you here all this time, stuck in this dreamland, for _three whole days_. It's going to obliterate you from within until there's nothing left. You have to believe me. _Please_."

For one single moment, the blonde human regarded him uncannily. Her expression was inscrutable, formed from a pair of aquatic abysses leading to a hollow interior. Fionna's corneas were glazed over with a film of matt indifference. Robbed and reduced of their original spark, the radiant marine glow Gumball knew so well.

 _"_ _Yes…"_ the thing that was Fionna spoke, in a familiar tone, yet in a timbre that felt so horrendously alien and _wrong_. She spoke as though through a digital recording, her syllables mere synthetic pseudo-sounds under an auditory disguise. The blonde's mouth widened in a smirk so un-Fionnalike that Gumball reacted instantly, stumbling backwards like a newborn foal.

"What… what in Glob's name _are_ you?" he demanded shakily.

 _"_ _I do not need to tell you that, do I? …Prince Bubba Gumball."_ The formality of the speech was deliberate and intimidating. Said candy monarch took a further step back as the fake Fionna approached. _"You know. You know that this is all a nightmare. A horrifying construct of your inner subconscious that you're just_ dying _to escape from… Or is that girl your one true concern? Would you be willing to sacrifice yourself for her like that?"_

"I…" This was not how it was supposed to happen. This wasn't _planned._ Oh, how, how could he have been so stupid? He should've seen through this. He should've clocked that this was not, was never the real Fionna. Had Marshall been here… had he not aggravated Marshall as he had done, things may have swung in a very different direction…

 _"_ _Yes. I know. I see. That is why you're here, is it not?"_ The oneiric monster, within the dream-flesh of Fionna, shrugged. _"Well. There's only one place for you to go, Prince Gumball. Only one course of action is acceptable. You must lose yourself."_

Before Gumball's mind even hit upon the meaning behind those words, the hollow human spread her arms to their full span. In the same instant, the world around him began to peel – quite literally – ripped strands of dreamlike reality were torn from his vision in a matter of milliseconds. Crackling static came as the only replacement, a psychological loss of signal. Gumball hung suspended in that blurry grey world of nothing, yet even through the deafening sound of absence, a voice could be heard. The familiarity of it was fading, though the bubblegum prince could still, just about, discern who it belonged to and what was being said.

"Gumball… _Gumball - !"_ yelled Marshall Lee.

Then all sound cut out.

* * *

Four walls, metres apart, so close that they practically touched. A low ceiling, no lights. The only illumination was imaginary. Words scrawled in an ugly brownish pigment inhabited the walls, some faded so that they were barely discernible, amongst other, more recent sentences embossed clearly against the old. These words were the sole companions of their ancient inmate, who sat cross-legged in the dead centre of the cell.

The man was not twenty years old physically, yet the ragged chaos of his once-bright rose hair was revealing streaks of shiny grey. His haggard, lined face gave him a tortured, archaic look, and, when coupled with the expression of quiet yet intense confusion upon his features, he appeared far older than his years. The quality fabric of his magenta outfit had once made him appear resplendent, but now, with the garments hanging in tattered rags, their colour bleached almost bone-white by time and trauma, he could only be described as a skeleton.

He lived within a timeless loop. That much he knew, though he neither questioned that fact nor accepted it. He merely observed impassively.

He knew this place. He'd been here for a while – it was almost like a home to him now. Repeating events scheduled in a linear lineup. That was his life. He would stare at the walls and attempt to comprehend the words. He would wonder, he would stare, completely unaware of how the words got there and who had written them. He figured, from the clotted crimson-brown hue, that they were written in blood, and so he copied the behaviour of this nameless graffiti artist. He would rip open one of the many scabs that webbed his forearms, and use the haemorrhaging liquid to write whatever came to mind. Sometimes he would draw pictures. There was, however, little space on the walls now, so he had begun using the floor as his canvas, surrounding himself with lines and images so that only one wordless space remained, which was where he sat.

He had an inkling that there may have been some meaning to what he was doing, once. But that meaning, whatever it had been, was now lost to the ages. The action had now become so habitual that he no longer felt pain whenever he tore off a scab or pressed his fingers into the wound in order to bring them out again, dripping with his own blood, to write.

As for the words themselves, he only recognised a few of them, those being the most recent ones. The familiar text was without meaning, composed of nonsensical characters and words in a variety of different scriptures. However, some of the older, less familiar sentences, could be read and understood coherently. One of the oldest writings that was still bold enough to be legible read: _"I am Prince Bubba Gumball of the Candy Kingdom. I am Prince Bubba Gumball of the Candy Kingdom."_ That sentence repeated over and over, a simple statement of pure fact, as though the writer had been trying to remind himself of something. Another, similar repetitive sentence read: _"Don't forget Fionna and Marshall Lee."_ And another one, only just legible but still chilling in the haphazard and desperate way in which it had been written: _"THIS IS ONLY A DREAM. ONLY A DREAM. WAKE UP, WAKE UP… Please."_ The last word of that sentence had clearly not been part of the original text, as it was bolder and so had possibly been added more recently. The letters were much smaller and almost resigned in the way that they had been written – reduced in both meaning and size.

The detainee could not help but wonder who Prince Bubba Gumball was. The name was vaguely familiar, though perhaps that was only because he had read it upon the walls so many times. He could only assume that Gumball had been a previous inmate who had resided in this very cell. He could only imagine what had become of Gumball in the end. But judging from some of his writings, he had most likely, eventually, lost his mind. "Poor guy," he would sometimes mutter, and the walls would echo his sympathy for this man he had never met.

And so the loop continued. There was little change. After filling the entire floor with gibberish, the captive saw he had no choice but to write over the older, more faded scriptures. He felt a pang of guilt at doing this, somehow. It felt as though he was erasing, painting over, the only evidence that the cell's previous occupant had ever existed.

But then, one or two or fifteen loops later, when even the gibberish he had written had become indistinct and unfamiliar to himself, the voices began.

He could not be certain whether the noise came from within his head or without – though there was not really much distinction between the two spheres at this point. Whenever the voice spoke, the actual speech varied, but the gist of it was this: "Gummy? Gumball? Where are you? Yell if you can hear me. Right, okay, you gumwad, I'm getting stupidly hungry right about now. If you don't answer me RIGHT NOW, you son of a biscuit, I'm going to suck all that pretty pink from your face when I get to you. Well, I'm going to be doing that anyway. But you didn't need to know that."

The voice phased in and out of amplitude and pitch, distorting and fragmenting. Though the prisoner could still understand it. He could only assume that the speaker, who was searching for Gumball, was some sort of old acquaintance or friend of his. Or enemy, perhaps, seeing as the speaker was quite willing to threaten him.

The jailbird considered responding. What could he say? Perhaps _"Gumball's gone"_ or _"I don't know"_ or _"Gumball's not here, try somewhere else"_. But he didn't really know much more about Gumball's whereabouts than the one who sought him did, so what would be the point?

But nevertheless, he tried it anyway; the words tumbled out of his mouth almost on impulse. "Gumball's… not here," he spoke slowly and carefully. It was an alien sensation, addressing someone else other than himself or the room around him. He could not remember the last time he had done so.

Perhaps because of the unfamiliarity of the situation, the prisoner almost jumped in shock when his addressee responded. "Gumball…? Is that… you? Or is that fucking monster trying to play tricks on me again?" The voice held an undertone of barely restrained hopefulness.

Before the prisoner could even begin to consider replying to that, the nearest wall bulged inwards very suddenly, swelling like a metallic buboe. The jailbird flinched and recoiled. Steely pus erupted from the heap, congealing into a vaguely humanoid shape, before splitting vertically and fragmenting into shards as a dark figure forced itself through.

The newcomer exhaled deeply, his throat forming a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a gasp. The metallic wall that he had warped through slowly reformed into its previous position as he left its chrome mass, though a few slivers remained, wedged in the infiltrator's hair and in the creases of his clothing, like flakes of eggshell coating the bodies of the newly hatched.

For several seconds, or more appropriately perceived as a minute or more, the nameless prisoner simply stared at this impromptu intruder. Crimson irises stared back with equal intensity beneath a dark overhang of scruffy black hair. The fabric of his chequered shirt and the denim of his jeans were torn, frayed and faded, discoloured and then recoloured by all manner of unsavoury natural pigments. The man's pale skin was unblemished, his body youthful, yet his eyes were incongruously aged. The prisoner saw in an instant that there were many layers of emotion and memory within and beyond those eyes; regret, trauma, frustration, resentment, hatred and weariness; years and years of it all. But that near-relentless stream of negativity was now superseded by a new expression, one that the detached inmate could tell had not existed within the dark-haired man's features for a long, long time. Relief.

"Gumball…" the infiltrator murmured softly. "Finally. You fucking little…" His words broke off.

"Who… who are you?" the prisoner garbled, shifting backwards a little more. Even though he did not feel particularly threatened by this man, the sudden change of pace from his life's usual indistinct monotony was difficult even to comprehend.

The other man gave a laugh that came out as more of a bark. "Ha! I had a feeling this would happen. Glob damn it." Fanglike canines bared in a melancholy smile as the dark-haired man shook his head. "I'm Marshall Lee, the Vampire King. Only son of Hunsonia Abadeer, ruler of the Nightosphere. Singer-songwriter, bass player extraordinaire." He shrugged.

"Marshall Lee…?" the prisoner mused. "You're… one of Gumball's friends…?"

"That's right, Gummy. I'm here to get you out of here." He paused. "Don't cha want to get out?"

The words struck a neural chord within the prisoner, activating a portion of his brain that had remained dormant for a long while. In an instant he became truly aware of the fact that he was trapped within these claustrophobically arranged walls, and, for the first time in a long while, wondered just what lay outside. He recognised the tininess and pitifulness of the cubic bubble he lived in, and realised that he hated it.

"…Yes. I do." The words were spoken with more fervour than he consciously felt.

The ancient jailbird could have almost sworn that Marshall had sighed in relief. "Great. Well then, come on! Let's get out there. Back to the _real_ world…" He leant back against the bloodstained wall behind him, as though exhausted. "Glob, it's been a long time, hasn't it? Time moves differently in dreams, yeah, I know… But that doesn't change the fact that it's been _years_. Everything could've changed beyond recognition…" He met the prisoner's eyes. "It's been a long haul, you know."

"What?" the inmate inquired, blinking. "What has?"

"Finding _you_ , of course! I almost gave up along the way, and you'd better thank your lucky stars I didn't. Otherwise you'd be stuck here, trapped in this dream-prison within the confines of your own mind, until you died." Marshall let the unsettling weight of those words settle on the prisoner for a moment. "And now… Well, to be honest, it's better than I'd hoped. I suppose Fionna did pretty well doing the heroic thing, beating up that monster. But… it left its mark, didn't it? There's still some residue, even now. Made it even more difficult to find you…" He chuckled bitterly. "And now I find you, you _don't even fucking know me_.

"Should I be bothered? Maybe not. You always used to act like I didn't exist. In fact, you probably hoped that I didn't exist. Well, you got what you damn well wished for." Resentment and rage were now overtaking Marshall's features. "So oblivious! Glob, sometimes I was convinced that you _knew,_ but you were just ignoring it because you didn't want to consider it. And of course, you were always more interested in Fionna. But if truth be told, I kind of hate it too. This way I can never get you out of my mind. The fact that I can never leave you behind…" The last two sentences reverberated almost lyrically.

The prisoner only understood portions of what was being said. He was puzzled, to say the least. Yet something was now definitely firing deep within his subconscious mind. There was something here that he _should_ know, but didn't.

"Why?" he finally asked. "Why come for me in the first place… if it was that difficult?"

Marshall chuckled once again. "Yeah, I get it, Gumball. Having your memory wiped and manipulated by a dream monster, yeah, it makes sense that you wouldn't know shit. But still. You can't see it, can you? You _never_ could." The vampire stepped forward. "But if I have to spell it out for you so that you'll understand, so be it."

The prisoner flinched, but held his position, when the dark-haired immortal clapped his hands on the former's shoulders. Ruby eyes bored into amethyst, intensifying as Marshall spoke.

"I never asked for it. It just happened, you know? And considering I feel so passionate about it, passionate enough to dedicate _years_ of my life trying to find you again, just so I can tell you this –" He broke off. "No. Wait. Let me start that again…"

As Marshall began speaking, his hands moved inadvertently. His fingers flowed up the other man's neck, coming to rest at his cheeks, lightly brushing the area beneath his eyes. The rose-haired man's eyes widened, but he did not jerk his head back or otherwise react to the close contact.

"The reason… why I came back… why I decided to help you get Fionna out of this dreamworld in the first place… why I endured so much crap, just to see your stupid bubblegum face again… _Everything_ …

"Is all because I love you, Gummy."

Marshall's next action was unprecedented. The cherry-haired Candy Person did not know how, but suddenly the vampire's lips were on his own, their flesh connecting and intermixing; the sugary prisoner tasted the vampire's mouth, which was a strange, yet not unpleasant, savoury flavour, and despite being long dead, his flesh was not at all cold. The bubblegum prisoner briefly wondered how that was possible. But then, he suddenly yelped in pain.

"What are you doing - !?" he gasped. Marshall had sunk his fangs into the outside of the Candy Person's cheek, and, amidst a deep slurping noise, the pink-haired man felt _something_ – not blood, but _colour_ – being leeched from his skin. This continued for several moments before the vampire pulled back, licking his lips and smirking.

"Sorry," he explained, "I was _really_ hungry. Though eating in a dream is only psychologically satisfying. I guess I'll have to do the same to you again once we're back in the real world." The last sentence was spoken only partially jokingly.

The real world. It was something the Candy Person had only just begun to perceive, yet he was beginning to, gradually, understand more. It would probably take years to fully lift the obscuring psychological mist that clouded his mind, but at least he had an inkling… The fragments of cognition, waiting to be pieced together.

A deep sigh emanated from the man before him. "Maybe… maybe it's better this way. We can use this to start all over again…" For a few moments that claret gaze was distant, gazing beyond the wall he stared at and into the foreseeable future. When he turned back to the prisoner, his features had softened somewhat. "So. Do you remember anything at all about who you are?"

"I'm…" The Candy Person took a moment to search for memories that he was somehow blockaded from; neural pathways that resided within his brain, but no longer belonged to him now, after years of neglect and manipulation by outside forces. Violet eyes scanned the haemoglobin graffiti on the walls, resting on the phrase _"I am Prince Bubba Gumball of the Candy Kingdom."_ There was a momentary flicker of recall. But the thought rapidly streaked back into the depths of his mind. For all intents and purposes, it was forgotten. Yet it still had an impact.

Who _was_ he? The Candy Person didn't doubt that he could never be the same person as he had previously, as Marshall Lee had known him. But he had an identity, one that was out there, waiting to be discovered. However long it took.

So he didn't hesitate when Marshall offered him a hand – he reached out and gripped it tightly. Gumball accepted his name, for now. He accepted Marshall. He allowed the vampire to guide him as the pair hit the wall running, plunging into a glorious kaleidoscope of oneiric imagery, to emerge on the other side in a new reality.


	3. Be Your Shadow

**Hey! So, it seems I have finally got around to reviving this again. This particular one-shot is a songfic; the idea stemmed from a time a while back when I was listening to the song "Be Your Shadow" by The Wombats and I ended up thinking, "Hey, this actually describes the Gumlee relationship dynamic pretty damn well." And it turned into this. Yep. Just goes to show that sinning can be spontaneous at the best of times.**

 **It should be damn well obvious but I don't own Adventure Time or any of the characters involved. Nor do I own the song, though I seem to be giving it some free advertisement... With that being said, it is a really good song (in my humble opinion, of course). As with every songfic I recommend listening to the song before you read... or perhaps afterward, if you're particularly sensitive to spoilers. But anyway, I'll stop rambling and let you get on with it.**

 **See you in (probably) a few months' time.~**

 **-Le Fez-Wearing Husky**

* * *

 **Be Your Shadow**

 **Universe:** Modern AU. Genderbent characters; Gumball is human.

 **Pairing:** Gumlee

 **Rating:** T for angst, violence, abuse (physical and psychological) within a relationship, sexual references, swearing etc.

 **Words:** 5,073 (including song lyrics)

 **Summary:** Gumball and Marshall had never had the most stable of relationships. One could even say that any romance involving a vampire was doomed from the start. It took a year for Gumball to acknowledge this and back out, doing the only thing he could think to do; run away. But when Marshall appears again, how will this play out…?

Songfic. Inspired by the song "Be Your Shadow" by the Wombats.

* * *

 ** _Tonight we'll both go MIA_**

 ** _In different towns but in similar ways_**

It was that time again.

A watery-yellow stain streaked the horizon, slowly draining away as inky indigo bled in to replace it. Sparse, blurry smudges of starlight attempted haplessly to peer through the dirty mauve clouds at the blindingly brilliant luminescence of the city below.

Overhead telephone lines buzzed ominously as a dejected plastic wrapper drifted across the paving. The only nearby illumination was from a sole lamppost that crackled and flickered almost threateningly.

A lone young man traversed the alley. His head was dipped towards the ground so that his bright rose-coloured fringe flopped down into his face.

Bubba Gumball stopped beneath the scintillating lamppost and gripped the strap of his rucksack.

 _Just what am I doing here…?_

Of course, he knew the answer to that question. He knew why he couldn't possibly turn back now. Not after that elaborate stunt he'd pulled… Not after he'd been so _certain…_

All of his friends and colleagues… Well, they probably thought him dead.

 _That's all for the best,_ he convinced himself. _No one needs to know… no one_ should _know. And let's face it. How many of them would believe me anyway? And of those few… how many would be willing to help me?_

Approximately zero was his reckoning.

He shook his head and carried on walking, beyond the border of the baleful light cast by the lamppost. But he couldn't shake off his regret.

He tried not to think about the fact that this was the first time he had ever been truly alone. Throughout his life, he had been constantly surrounded by friends, family and work colleagues. He hadn't realised it until recently, but he had always been looked after. He had always been _pampered._

And now he had discarded everyone he had ever known, in return for… what? Freedom?

No, not really, not truthfully. Gumball knew in his heart of hearts that he would never be truly free.

No matter how far he ran.

 ** _I've tried my best, best to forget_**

 ** _But I can't, I can't, I can't_**

He was nearing the end of the alley. The notion of sleep once again crossed his mind. He'd originally planned on staying the night in a hotel, but none of the places he'd passed so far had had any free rooms left at this time of night. Gumball supposed that was what he got for attempting to run away during tourist season.

He'd packed a sleeping bag and pillow in case of emergency, but it looked as if he was going to need them after all.

Still, not here. Not in this alley. This one reeked, plus it resembled the set of the scene of the villain's first victim in a horror movie far too much for Gumball's liking.

A sudden whistle of displaced air cut through the otherwise serene night. Gumball glanced upwards with a jolt, and saw that the telephone lines were jumping crazily in the wake of the sudden movement.

 _That's not… no, it can't be. It was just a bird or something._ In spite of his denial, he rapidly quickened his pace.

Another abrupt movement, this one so close that he could feel the breeze it kicked up buffet his face. He turned rapidly round in a three-sixty circle, but all he saw were vague dark shapes dancing on the edge of his vision.

Still, his doubt was waning. He knew only one person who would ever try to tease him like this.

"Marshall Lee," he breathed, in a shamefully pathetic voice, "if you're there, show yourself!"

A long and very deliberate silence followed. In Gumball's state of high anxiety, it seemed to stretch into eternity.

"Your wish is but my command, O great prince of gumdrops," a sickeningly mocking voice echoed. Then, as promised, the pale figure of Marshall Lee appeared, leaning casually against the sputtering lamppost.

Gumball's lip wavered. He only just managed to right himself as he wobbled backwards. The very reason he had decided to run in the first place was now right in front of him.

But in spite of all that, he wasn't at all surprised.

He'd known subconsciously that his efforts would be in vain. Although his friends may have been fooled, he'd known all along that Marshall was too clever for that. Marshall knew Gumball too well.

Marshall also seemed to be aware of the futility of Gumball's actions, as his first question was, "So, why'd you run away from me, exactly?"

"Because… because I can't _take_ it any more, Marshall." Gumball's voice was a hiss of passion, the words tumbling out alongside almost wheezy breaths. "I can't live an ordinary life anymore, because you… you…" Even after all this time, he found he couldn't say it.

"Because I'm a vampire, right?" Marshall filled in, his voice and eyes burning with savage mockery. He approached, baring his fangs as Gumball flinched backwards. "I must've said this a thousand times, Gummy, but honestly, _fuck_ you and your ordinary life. Where's the good in it anyway?"

"I… I wouldn't expect you to understand." Gumball refused to meet Marshall's eyes; the emotion in them was almost overwhelming, like a scarlet tsunami of bitterness, rage, regret and despair. "It's not like you've ever had an ordinary life… well, not since you were turned, anyway."

He forced himself to meet Marshall's gaze. The vampire's expression was even worse than he expected. It was like a whirlpool – no, an event horizon of betrayal, with two maniacally dilated pupils as its singularity. Emotion that was held so densely together inside a single being, Gumball could hardly bear it.

He gulped pathetically before he spoke. "Marshall… why… I must have told you this a hundred times… so why… do you keep coming back? …You don't really think I'm going to change my mind, do you?"

There was a sudden change in the vampire's eyes. Surprise was evident, but only for a millisecond; it was all too soon replaced by derisive laughter.

"Gummy," he spoke wheezily between breaths, "you do realise that you've just asked me a question… that I've all too often struggled to answer myself?"

There was a brief silence. Gumball stared tensely at Marshall, though it was difficult with the vampire's hideously wild expression and the sound of his breathing… ragged, torn, absolutely _heart-wrenching_.

He suddenly relapsed into explosive laughter, so violently that Gumball jolted. "Oh, Gummy," he croaked when he could finally speak again. "You want to know why I keep coming back? You want to know why I gave up trying to hold myself back from you? You want to know why I still can't accept that it's all over and you want to move on?"

He took a step closer with every sentence. Gumball found himself innately staggering backwards, but Marshall was still gaining on him.

"It doesn't matter how hard I try," the vampire rasped. "I can't forget what you've done to me. It's inescapable. It keeps coming back to haunt me.

"It's not something I can just _let go_ , Gumball!"

 ** _Tonight we'll scratch each other's face_**

 ** _If it's in the moment no one complains_**

Gumball's entire body was shaking. He felt like a time-bomb in that instant, about to erupt the lining of his stomach onto the litter-sullied paving beneath him. He felt searing heat prick the edges of his eyes.

"Stop, Marshall… just stop…"

It came out so quietly he doubted the vampire even heard.

"You act like you've forgotten, too, but if that's the case, I'm calling bullshit," Marshall continued as he advanced. "You couldn't forget it, could you? That you're the first person I've had a real fucking conversation with since I became this monster? That you're pretty much the only one, apart from my parents, maybe – though that hardly matters since I can barely remember them – who loved me in spite of all my flaws?"

Gumball's face screwed up in pain as he hit something hard and plastic behind him. He could tell from the sudden foul stench that it was a dumpster. Marshall took this opportunity to close the gap between them, and pounced.

Reflexively, Gumball lashed out. He felt his palm connect with soft, long-dead flesh, felt his fingernails tear straight through a millennia-old epidermis. He squirmed away and ran breathlessly without a single glance back, without decision or precognition.

 ** _I've tried my best to move along_**

 ** _But I can't, I can't, I can't_**

He paid so little attention to his surroundings as he ran that it was a strange shock when he stopped. It was as though the environment had suddenly materialised around him; as though he had teleported into it directly.

He was stood in the middle of a pedestrianised plaza-like area, with trees sprouting at the four corners of a raised rectangle of pavement. Benches were situated at every five metres or so. On either side were brightly lit shops, specialising in everything from doner kebabs to tailor-made suits.

Gumball, panting, hefted himself towards the nearest bench and sat down heavily, clutching his stomach. Every last shop on the street had closed. There was no one about, with the notable exception of a couple of stray cats. But most importantly, there was no Marshall.

Gumball tried to force himself to relax. He coughed, spluttered, veering dangerously close to retching. With a couple of deep gasps he managed, just about, to calm himself down.

 _Has he… gone?_ It felt an awful lot like wishful thinking, but there was nothing that suggested the opposite. So he warily, shakily, managed to pick himself up off the bench. He took a wary, shaky step forward.

He needed to get away. He needed to find somewhere he could rest. If he hid in some grotty alleyway, Marshall would probably find him sooner or later… but where else was any better? The night was a vampire's kingdom. And he didn't think he could keep this chase up until the sun rose.

He continued onward, hoping vainly for some abandoned shack he could spend the night in. He kept glancing upwards, but the dirty indigo sky held nothing.

The street ahead widened, the brick facades of shops being gradually replaced with every step by the corrugated iron walls of warehouses. A traffic flyover loomed in the near distance, the soft rumble of late night traffic rattling its cement columns like a prehistoric skeleton. Behind that were the excessive shining lights of glamourous skyscrapers, gigantic and blindingly opulent ads stretched across their sides.

Gumball paused about a hundred metres short of the flyover. The lawn of a nearby warehouse seemed fairly inviting, aside from the fact that it lay beyond an intimidating chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. Still, at this point, Gumball was almost too tired to be bothered. He didn't even care if Marshall found him; he just wanted some rest.

He flicked a Swiss Army knife out of the pocket of his trousers. It had been a childhood birthday present from his parents, who had insisted he carry it at all times "in case of an emergency". He sighed as he brought out the wire cutters and crouched down beside the fence. His parents had been a little overprotective, that was true, but still… he could hardly bear the fact that they now thought him dead…

He made to close the wire cutters down on one of the links, but something prevented him from doing so.

He crouched there, hesitant, for an unmeasurable length of time.

 _Why was he doing this again?_

 _To start over,_ he immediately answered. _To get away from it all… to forget that Marshall ever even existed… to move on._

But, simultaneously, in a mocking voice that prodded at the inside of his skull, Marshall's words immediately countered, _"You couldn't forget it, could you, Gummy?"_

Gumball fell backwards, gasping. The voice was so profound it seemed almost tangible… almost as if Marshall was standing right behind him.

"I mean it, Gummy." The vampire's voice floated down from somewhere directly above Gumball. "If you try to forget about me, you'll get nowhere."

 ** _Kiss me with your fist, it's alright_**

 ** _Wrap your hands around my throat, I won't mind_**

Gumball stood up and whipped around, but Marshall had already anticipated his movements. Pale fingers closed over the hand that held the Swiss Army knife in a grip harder and colder than iron.

"Oh, you wouldn't, would you, Gummy?" Marshall taunted. There was a nasty light in his eyes, something that now went far beyond mockery. "Not in a million years. You're far too much of a coward to ever use that thing against me. Too much of an arrogant, pompous little _fucking prince_ who can't even be trusted to tie his own fucking shoelaces!"

Gumball was unaware of what exactly, but a combination of Marshall's words and savage tone caused _something_ to snap inside of him. Without inhibition, he let his fist slam into the side of Marshall's face, right into the bleeding scratch marks he had given the vampire earlier.

Marshall went down from the force of the punch, but his hand remained steadfastly wrapped around Gumball's. Soon enough, the rose-haired human was brought down on top of the vampire.

Gumball immediately went in for another strike. And another. And another. Marshall did nothing to stop him; he just kept holding on to Gumball's right hand as the human relentlessly beat him with his left.

"Hey, Gummy…"

Gumball hesitated. He stared right at Marshall, who was smiling through lips stained by age-old blood.

"So you actually pack a bit of a punch when you're angry, don't cha?" he observed, through intermittent spluttering. "Man, it's gonna take me a while to heal all that. Didn't think you had it in you."

Gumball felt again the annoying heat prick at his eyelids. "Why, Marshall? Why…" He didn't need to complete his sentence.

"I just wanted to prove this to you…" Marshall uttered in a tone that sounded almost alien coming from his mouth; it wasn't mocking or derisive, only sincere. "I… I don't care if you kiss me, fuck me, punch me, try to kill me. It won't matter. I'll still feel the same way about you."

Gumball blinked, edging backwards. "What… are you trying to say…?" he murmured, but he knew exactly what the vampire meant.

Still, he could barely believe it. Marshall Lee was many things, but a _masochist…_ That was something completely new.

"Y-You're just doing this to unnerve me," Gumball stammered.

Marshall shook his head. "You really don't understand me, do you, Gummy?" He sighed. "Yeah, I know. It's really stupid. I guess it's my fatal flaw… my Kryptonite, y'know? And this is going to sound really cliché and sappy, but you know… truthfully… I don't think I could stand living in a world without you. In a world where you don't even think about me or know my name… Honestly, I'd choose _anything_ over that."

 ** _I'm permanent, now I won't go_**

 ** _I just wanna be your shadow_**

Gumball staggered away from where the vampire lay. _Glob…_ he internally gasped, feeling almost too unsettled by the whole revelation to fully comprehend it, _I knew he was needy, but honestly, this is just…_

He didn't want to even think about it. If he did that, he would be paralysed by guilt. So he did the only thing he could think to do: run away.

"Running, huh, Gummy?" Marshall yelled after him, scornfully. "Is that really all you can think to do, you selfish bastard?! Well, go on! Go on and wait for some hero to miraculously turn up and save you from this situation. 'Cos I'm just some horrible monster who needs putting down, aren't I?"

Gumball tried his utmost not to pay attention to Marshall's disparaging comments. However, that wasn't easy when almost all of them were true.

He didn't realise until he was deep within the shadows beneath the flyover that so much moisture had begun pooling in his eyes that the scalding liquid was overspilling. He rubbed at his eyes violently, and then repeated for good measure. He leant against one of the columns, gasping in an attempt to catch his breath.

"Gummy…"

Gumball jolted, whirling around frantically, but it was too dark to see anything - not even the telltale shadow of movement that sometimes manifested in the corner of his vision when Marshall turned invisible. He mentally cursed himself for retreating under a _bridge_ , of all places. Even someone who had no previous experience with vampires would know that that was automatically a profoundly awful idea.

"Look at what you've done to me, Gummy." Marshall's sardonic chortle reverberated back and forth between the ground and the flyover. "You've taken away all my pride. You've made me dependent on a fucking _human_. And what's more, you've made it so I did all that willingly. There's nothing more that I want right now, Gummy. It's just like in all those stupid pop songs. You're the only thing I want from life.

"You think you know me, but you don't even have the faintest idea of what it's like to be immortal. Life kinda loses its meaning. I might kill time by writing songs, put together a couple of albums, but eventually, at some point, I'm gonna run out of ideas. Well, I thought that, until I met you. You're like a source of inspiration that just doesn't dry up for some reason." Another chuckle vibrated through the darkness. "I have no idea why. At first I thought you were just this plain, pasty-faced dude who spends his days kneading pastry and decorating cakes and his nights in a sheltered, comfortable house surrounded by all his sickly-sweet best friends. You had it easy. Just like some fairy-tale prince. But it turns out, you actually quite like adventure and danger. After all, you chose to be with me, rather than any of those other pretty, harmless, pasty-faced little candy-people that your parents were all too eager to introduce you to. Isn't that right?!"

As Marshall's manic guffaws saturated every pocket of tenebrosity, every shadow, Gumball found that he had reached his absolute limit. He searched frantically for an escape route, saw the access ladder on the other side of the column and dashed towards it. He knocked the padlock off the door using the miniature hammer of his Swiss Army knife and began his frenzied ascent.

 ** _Just one more uptempo tune_**

 ** _The suits don't care if their feet aren't blue_**

 ** _Are you aware of what's going on_**

 ** _In my heart, my heart, my heart_**

Gumball was regretting his decision somewhere between rung 16 and rung 18, but he carried on regardless. He wouldn't let himself be defeated by Marshall.

Climbing became progressively more difficult following rung 20, but the counting helped ease his mind a little. The wind snatched at his hair and ripped through his jacket. He tried not to think about how many rungs were left. He tried not to look down.

It was at rung 40 that the song started.

He figured Marshall must be floating in midair somewhere close by, as the sound carried too clearly for it to be otherwise. The elaborate emotion in its notes hummed through the air even more pellucidly.

 _"_ _My heart ain't beatin' but my mind's a-racin', frantically, baby… I'm an anomaly, one that you can see, but nobody else can, oh-o-oh… And I don't know why it is… Even through that draining kiss, oh-o-oh… Tell me, is it delirium? Are we all just going mad? Oh, tell me, is it delirium? Are we all just going mad?"_

It had been a long time since Gumball had last heard that tune, but he recognised the lyrics instantly. It was the first song Marshall had wrote especially for Gumball. A product of a less… complicated time.

He could easily tell why Marshall was singing that particular song in this time and place. And if he was honest, it was a notion he agreed with. Gumball would have loved more than anything to have entered a time machine and gone back to the early days of their relationship. Before anyone had had a chance to suspect or criticise. Before Gumball was forced to make a decision between Marshall and his family, and ended up deciding that everyone would be better off if he chose neither.

He paused, halfway up the column, clinging tightly to the access ladder and shielding his inner body against the wind. _I can't, Marshall. I've gone way past the point of no return. I've burnt all those bridges… literally. There's no way things can return to how they used to be._

And so he continued in a ceaseless ascent up the ladder.

 ** _Those machine gun eyes_**

 ** _Fired crystals into me_**

 ** _You're such a violent high_**

 ** _And I'm such a loose cannon, can't you see?_**

He emerged onto dirty grey tarmac. Even though he had rode across this flyover many times before, the environment seemed strangely static. Alien. The road now seemed infinitely long, precisely because he wasn't now moving along it.

Gumball stepped out cautiously. A single sleek motorbike passed by on the opposite carriageway. Other than that, nothing. He looked about, wondering vaguely which direction he should travel in.

He never got as far as deciding, of course.

"Hold up," commanded a voice from above.

Gumball glanced in the direction of the sound. He was no longer surprised to see Marshall Lee, floating five metres above the road, the light breeze ruffling his dark hair.

"Marshall, please, just leave me alone!" Gumball pleaded. "You can't dictate my life any longer, so just, please –"

"Well, that's hardly fair!" the vampire interrupted. " _You're_ dictating _my_ life as much as I'm dictating yours! You're being a fucking selfish bastard, Gumball, and you're an idiot if you haven't realised that –"

"Marshall, honestly." Gumball tried to appear as imposing as he possibly could. "Leave. Now. This is your last warning." He tried to keep the fear from consuming his voice, and promptly failed in his efforts.

Marshall smirked. "Are you honestly threatening me, Gummy –"

His voice was cut off by a gunshot. The sound, so sharp and sudden, caused the vampire to do something he was rarely seen to do – flinch.

The source of the shot was a smoking, gleaming silver pistol; a real baroque weapon, like something from a classic Western or old James Bond film. There was something profoundly wrong about it being in Gumball's hands.

"Are you expecting me to believe that your parents told you to carry that around as well?" Marshall half-quipped, unable to keep the shock from his voice.

"No," Gumball replied flatly. He didn't feel like telling Marshall where or how he had received the gun. He didn't, if he was honest, feel like acknowledging that himself.

"Like I said, I'm giving you one last chance to leave without a fight. I know I won't be able to kill you with this, but I can cause some serious damage that'll take you a long time to recover from. And it'll be painful," he added.

"What the – You've gone completely psycho!" Marshall yelled, but his voice soon lapsed into a howl of pain as a bullet hit him in the side. He frantically dodged Gumball's bullets; although most were wild, the rose-haired human managed to keep a steady enough aim to come dangerously close on a few of them.

Marshall dematerialised, and Gumball abruptly stopped shooting. He backed up, scanning the surroundings with his eyes and ears, his heart thumping full throttle in his chest. He whipped around, expecting a sneak attack, but none came.

"Gumball –"

The voice came from behind him. Said human whirled around, noticed a dark red streak dash towards his left and fired.

The bullet managed to somehow hit its mark. Marshall, groaning and clutching his leg, lost his balance and smacked into a nearby lamppost. He hung in the air rather dazedly.

Gumball saw his chance and aimed for a direct shot, but something in Marshall's expression gave him pause.

The vampire's crimson gaze was fixed on a point somewhere behind Gumball, but framed in his crimson eyes was a raw, pure emotion that Marshall all too often felt, but far less often expressed.

That emotion was fear.

 ** _Kiss me with your fist, it's alright_**

 ** _Wrap your hands around my throat, I won't mind_**

 ** _I'm permanent, now I won't go_**

 ** _I just wanna be your shadow_**

 ** _Have a bus drive it over my ribcage_**

 ** _Snap my bank cards and throw them at my face_**

 ** _I'm permanent, now I won't go_**

 ** _I just wanna be your shadow_**

Gumball obligingly turned around.

It was a night bus. Larger than life, all lit up in gargantuan double-decker glory. It was traveling at about double its speed limit; after all, it wasn't rush hour so it seemed to the driver like a good time to get away with it.

Only, it wasn't.

For a fraction of a moment, the driver caught Gumball's gaze as the latter stumbled, blinded by the glare of the headlamps. The look on her face suggested one word: _Shit!_

She rapidly braked and swerved, but both of them knew it was already too late. The enormity of the bus kept on coming, curving around until it slammed into Gumball's chest at full force.

"GUMBALL!" Marshall screamed. He had already moved to try and intercept the crash but had fallen a millisecond short. He swooped backwards, just managing to catch Gumball as he was sent flying.

The momentum caused the vampire to slam back-first into a crash barrier. He tensed, hoping against hope that his body would absorb the brunt of the impact, and slid to the floor, somewhat dazed.

However, his attention was almost immediately on Gumball, who was far worse than dazed. Blood was already beginning to pool across his chest; it seemed that he had punctured a lung with one of his ribs.

 ** _And I just wanna be the sum of your broken parts_**

 ** _And I just wanna be your creature of the dark_**

"Fuck! Gumball… Gumball! Fucking answer me!"

Marshall continued to yell, oblivious to the discombobulation around him; of bus passengers crowding around, of people shouting to call an ambulance, of the bus driver's utter horror at the accident.

"Shit… Shit! You _idiot!_ Oh, Glob… if only I had got there a second earlier…"

"No."

Marshall glanced down with something that wasn't quite relief at the body in his arms. Gumball convulsed sickeningly, coughing up a globule of blood along with the word.

"No… Marshall…" he gasped wheezily. "Don't… don't blame yourself. You were injured. And I was the one who did that…" He smiled painfully. "Ironic, huh?"

"Don't give me that, gumwad." Marshall was doing his utmost not to break down. "Just… just hang in there, okay? Don't talk, you'll make it worse… Remember, you're not immortal like me…"

The words seemed to fall on deaf ears. "I was being selfish, but… I thought there could be another way…" His eyes closed momentarily. "Still, there's no forgiving me. I'm sorry… For everything. For betraying you. I… I probably deserve this…"

"I guess I should've listened to you more," Marshall admitted. "Given you some space. But I just… I just couldn't handle the notion of you ever disappearing from my life."

A single tear dropped onto Gumball's bloodied chest.

"Looks as if that's going to happen anyway." Marshall no longer bothered to keep the emotion from his voice.

"If… if I survive this…" Gumball muttered, "let's just… talk it over like we're ordinary people… okay?"

"We're not ordinary people, idiot." Marshall shook his head. "But okay. Sure. Whatever." The tears just kept falling, and Marshall found he could do nothing to stop them.

"Excuse me, sir…"

Marshall blinked as he looked up to find himself face to face with a paramedic. The man glanced between the vampire and Gumball in turn.

"Are you this man's friend?"

"Yes," Marshall replied. It wasn't strictly true, but now was not the time for details.

"He needs urgent intensive care, sir. So if you'd allow us to get him to the ambulance –"

"'Kay, fine." Marshall somewhat reluctantly let go of Gumball and stepped back into the crowd.

He watched impassively as Gumball was carted onto the ambulance. The vehicle immediately set off once the procedure had been completed, sirens blazing.

The people around Marshall were muttering and casting strange glances in his direction. A vague, barely conscious part of his brain acknowledged that they had probably seen him flying and that the rumour of a so-called "flying man" would be all over the tabloids by tomorrow morning.

The actual headlines were something like "Invisible Flying Man Causes Major Bus Accident" – for at that point Marshall dematerialised in front of a crowd of completely perplexed witnesses.

 ** _And I just wanna be the sum of your broken parts_**

 ** _And I just wanna be your creature of, your creature of the dark_**

It was that time again.

The lights in the ward had dimmed into dormancy. The faint sounds of emergency activity could be heard in the adjacent ward, through several corridors, a large set of double doors and an operating curtain.

Other than that, and the steady beeps of around fifty heart rate monitors, the ward was blanketed in silence.

An equally silent shape emerged from the darkness of a small alcove stacked with sanitary equipment. A pale hand gently pulled back the curtain sectioning off one of the beds and slipped soundlessly behind it.

The patient slept serenely in a Propofol-induced stupor. His blankets were drawn up to his upper torso, just revealing the top part of a section of bandages wrapped across his chest. His hot-pink hair was ragged with trauma, but now hung droopily, as though the follicles had finally found peace.

The silent intruder sat upon the bed weightlessly, hovering just millimetres from where the bed began. He reached over to gently thread his fingers through the patient's right hand, being careful to avoid touching the area where the drip was attached.

"Hang in there, Gummy."

His only answer was the steady _beep-beep_ of the heart rate monitor.

 ** _Kiss me with your fist, it's alright_**

 ** _Wrap your hands around my throat, I won't mind_**

 ** _I'm permanent, now I won't go_**

 ** _I just wanna be your shadow_**


End file.
